


Fenhawke Vampire AU

by CarnationGem (Akumeoi)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gender-Neutral Hawke, Other, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/CarnationGem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke & the Kirkwall Vampire Contaiment Squad find Fenris, a young vampire with no control over his desire to drink blood, half-dead in a gutter. Hawke thinks he's worth taking a chance on and convinces Aveline and Varric to rescue him.</p><p>Fenris POV. Gender-neutral Hawke. Intended to be mage Hawke, but by the parameters of the AU you can pretend Hawke is just some kind of fey if your Hawke is not a mage Hawke. </p><p>Inspired by the following post on tumblr: http://broodypoet.tumblr.com/post/131135022855/ancient-vamp-takes-in-and-feeds-a-starved-runaway</p><p>WARNING: This fic does have a description of Fenris drinking Hawke's blood in it. If that makes you squeamish, please don't read it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fenhawke Vampire AU

**Author's Note:**

> The AU has been modified in the following ways from just straight up "everyone is vampires":  
> • Hawke & the Kirkwall Crew are now the Vampire Containment Squad. It is comprised of Aveline, Varric, and Isabela, who are vampires, and Hawke, Anders, and Merrill, who are blood donors with magically extended lifespans. The general public doesn't know that vampires are A Thing That Exists, so the Squad is in charge of killing all vampires who refuse to stop eating people indiscriminately, and rehabilitating those that don't want to be killers but haven't learned to control themselves yet.  
> • How did Fenris get made into a vampire? Well, Danarius thought it would be cute to have a pet vampire that he could feed his enemies to.
> 
> Other facts about this AU you may find amusing:  
> • Isabela was one of their most successful rehabilitations. As such, she is the youngest vampire of the group.  
> • Dog is now a hellhound, because I can.  
> • Aveline has been Captain of the Guard for about 200 years.

“Aww, look at him. He looks so hungry.”

“Hungry? Hawke, I don’t even know if he’s still alive."

“He’s still alive. I can feel it. Look at that hair, he’s just precious. Varric, we have to rescue him. Please?”

A sigh from a throat with a very deep voice. Fenris tries to open his eyes, but they feel so heavy. His whole body feels like lead. His legs are soaked with something very cold, and he should be shivering, but he doesn’t have enough feeling in his limbs to tell if he is or not. Do vampires even shiver? Fenris doesn’t know. He’s been a vampire for just a few short months, and already he is dying. 

He is so, so hungry.

He hears footsteps approach him. Another sigh and a rustle of clothing as someone crouches down beside him. 

“No...” he moans, trying to turn his head away. No matter what the raging pain in his throat says, he won’t eat anyone who doesn’t deserve it. He isn’t an indiscriminate killer. He isn't Danarius.

“He moved. He’s alive,” says a voice in his ear, this one female and commanding. In Fenris’s panic he manages the strength to open his eyes and cringe away from the orange-haired woman before him, but she reaches out and grabs his shoulder to still him. It’s only when her hand reaches past his nose that he realises she doesn’t smell like food to him at all, but his fogged, exhausted brain can’t comprehend why.

“See? I told you.”

The first speaker again. A tall, black-haired figure that his eyes can’t quite focus on - but his nose can. This one smells. Good. Like blood. _Blood_. Fenris is so, so hungry. Involuntarily, he growls.

“I don’t think he likes you, Hawke,” says the deep-voiced man. Varric. The black-haired one laughs, and the orange-haired woman with her hand on Fenris’s shoulder lets go of him and steps back. 

"So, whoever shall he come home with?” Hawke says innocently. Fenris’s bones are crying out for him to sleep and he closes his eyes again, but Hawke’s scent is too delicious to ignore. The last vestiges of his strength are all focused on that smell. Blood means food. Blood means life. If only he could reach...

“You can’t just volunteer Anders and Merrill,” Varric says. “You’re the one who wanted to save him. He’s going home with you.”

“Oh goody,” says Hawke. “Aveline, you’ll help me carry him, won’t you?”

“Of course. He’s in no fit state to walk, and I don’t want him biting you in the middle of the street,” Aveline replies. There’s another crunching of footsteps on loose dirt, and Fenris suddenly feels himself being lifted out of the ditch in which he’d been lying for the past six hours. He is cradled in someone’s strong arms, like a tiny child, but they must be Aveline’s because he doesn’t feel the need to bite her. 

That smell, where’s that smell? Where’s Hawke?

The delicious scent is getting too far away, and Fenris momentarily panics. But the strong arms holding him won’t let him thrash around. Instead, they tighten around him, and he hasn’t the strength to fight back. All he can do is let out a tiny growl of protest as the woman carrying him begins to walk forward, leaving the gutter behind.

“He’s a fighter,” Aveline remarks. Hawke laughs, and even that laugh is enough to make Fenris’s mouth water. 

The journey they make is nothing but a haze. Fenris’s every sense strains to keep a fix on Hawke. They must not be going through town, because he smells no other food. The sewers, maybe. He can't tell if it's dark because it's night or because they're underground. Once, there is fighting with something nonedible. Maybe spiders. Aveline puts him down, then picks him up again. He can feel it now, his hands are trembling. He sees Hawke’s leather-clad back in front of him, and Varric’s blonde ponytail swaying as he walks. After a starving eternity no longer than the one he spent in the ditch, Hawke unlocks a door in the wall and they go up and up and up.

They are in a fine house, a mansion. Oh no. For a moment, Fenris’s fevered mind thinks he’s back with Danarius. Then Hawke is there. Hawke, and a little elven servant girl. Oh, they both smell delicious. Fenris thinks he almost could cry. 

“Orana, please prepare the guest room. Err, the special guest room. You know what I mean.”

”Right away, Mistress,” says the elf, who scurries away. Varric and Hawke start locking all the doors. 

Then Hawke sits down in the middle of the room and says, “Alright, put him down. I’m ready.”

“Thanks, Hawke,” Varric says. “Do you need us to stay? Because he seems like a handful.”

“I’ll be fine. Hopefully Orana won’t have to clean blood out of the carpet again. You and Aveline go home. You know it’s not very nice to be watched when you’re eating.”

Varric chuckles. “Indeed I do. See you, Hawke.”

The dwarf leaves. Aveline tries to put Fenris down, but he clings to her like a baby. If they leave him alone in this room with this Hawke, they may very well not see their friend alive again. How do they not know this? 

“Get off me,” Aveline says, irritated. “It’s not my blood you want.”

“Maybe he’s shy,” Hawke says, and Fenris swears Hawke’s very voice is laughing. 

Aveline struggles with him for a moment, then says crossly, “I don’t want to hurt him, Hawke. Make him come to you.”

Hawke speaks again, voice far more gentle this time. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid. You can have my blood. I’m giving it to you. Let go of Aveline. Come here, you’ll be fine, I promise. You can have as much as you want.”

As much blood... as he wants?

It doesn’t make any sense. Fenris turns his head to look at Hawke, but before he can utter his confusion, he sees a glint of silver as Hawke takes a knife -

\- and presses the tip against the heel of Hawke's own hand. 

Fenris drops from Aveline’s arms, lands on his feet, and sprints across the room towards Hawke. The smell of fresh, red blood is too much for him to bear. Hawke cries out in surprise as he grabs the cut palm, licks the bead of blood forming tantalisingly before him, and then throws himself at Hawke’s neck and bites down hard. Hot, sweet life surges through his veins as he takes deep, greedy draughts straight from Hawke’s throat. He can half hear himself making deep animal growls and wild sounds of distress and hunger, but the most important sound to him is the rich, fierce beating of Hawke’s heart in his sensitive ears. 

He cannot stop. He cannot think. There is only sweet red blood, filling his mouth and trickling down his chin. He drinks and drinks and drinks until finally, finally, he is full. A feeling he hasn’t had in what feels like his whole life. He finally releases his hold on Hawke’s neck and lies panting on top of Hawke, belly so full he doesn’t think he will ever be able to move again.

Then he remembers what he’s done, and his heart drops into the ground so fast he nearly throws up all the blood he’s just eaten.

But wait, Hawke’s heart is still beating. He can hear it. In fact, Hawke is holding him, pinning his arms to his sides. He notices the bright red scratches on Hawke’s arms. They smell good, but he’s not hungry anymore. 

“Are you done?” Hawke says. 

Hawke is alive. 

“Yes,” Fenris says. Hearing his own voice is nearly as shocking as hearing Hawke’s. He’s been silent for a long time, too. 

Slowly, Hawke lets go of his arms, and he sits up. Hawke sits up too, and they find themselves nose-to-nose. Hawke has blood from the scratches Fenris made with his claws, and splatters everywhere from the bite Fenris made with his sharp little fangs. There is blood on the floor, on the front of Hawke’s shirt, in Hawke’s soft black hair. Fenris cringes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says abruptly, trying to stand up, but he’s still weaker than he should be and he quickly drops back down to his knees. Hawke catches him before he falls and helps him sit down again. 

“For what? The blood on the carpet? Orana won’t be happy, it’s true, but at least this tunic already had blood on it.”

Hawke’s voice is always laughing, it seems. 

Fenris shakes his head, almost angry. “No. I should have killed you. You should be dead. Why didn’t you stop me?”

Hawke smiles. “I’m a donor,” is the simple reply. “I told you you could have as much as you wanted. You’re safe now.”

Before Fenris’s unbelieving eyes, Hawke raises one hand to the claw-marks on the opposite arm. Blue light comes out of Hawke’s fingers, and the cuts quickly seal themselves up, leaving only a crust of dried blood behind. Hawke then repeats the process on the other arm. 

“I-” Fenris begins. He wants to express gratitude, maybe, but he doesn’t know how. Such emotions do not come naturally to him of their own accord. All he knows are anger and hunger. 

Looking up, Hawke says to him, using that gentle voice he’s heard only once before, “So what is your name?”

Something shifts inside of Fenris as he looks into Hawke’s bright blue eyes. “My name is Fenris,” he says.


End file.
